


Rekindling The Sacred Fires

by Sashataakheru



Category: Electric Light Orchestra RPF
Genre: 90s wicca, Altars, Gen, Meditation, Paganism, Religious fic, Rituals, Trance - Freeform, alternate universe: magic/witchcraft, circle-casting, community: au bingo, coven politics, skulls - Freeform, spellcraft, traditional witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy finds his old magical tools in a box in the attic, and finds the old magic still calls to him all these years later. But what's the point of picking up where he left off, when he hasn't cast any magic for nearly two decades? Set early 1990s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'magic' for AU bingo. [My card is here.](http://3evilmuses.dreamwidth.org/41597.html)
> 
> I read books about magic and witchcraft to learn about magic and witchcraft, not so my muses can give me magic AU plot bunnies. GDI. XD 
> 
> Also, the type of witchcraft portrayed here is its own idiosyncratic form of old-school traditional witchcraft, rather than fluffy neo-Wicca. Though I think that might be obvious, all things considered. The term 'witch' here is being used as a gender-neutral term for someone who practices witchcraft.

He'd stumbled across his old magic tools by accident as he'd been going through all the possibly unnecessary boxes in his attic. He hadn't used them for years, not since-

He stopped himself at that thought. They hadn't fallen out, not really, but he'd got married, and had a family, and it just wasn't feasible to go to coven meetings in the dead of night anymore. It had been cast as a betrayal, but Roy was never sure exactly what oath he'd broken. It's not like he'd ever told anyone he practiced magic. He had enough sense to know he should keep that one quiet. But somehow that was never the point.

The ornate silver knife now looked far too garish for his tastes, but it had been the first magical tool he'd ever been given, and the blade still contained the symbols and runes he'd painted on it all those years ago. He pointed it in front of him, imagining the white-blue light he used to use to cast circle with. The knife still hummed with power, but it wasn't as strong as it used to be. He liked having it in his hands again. It had always felt like it was meant for him.

The chalice was in need of a polish, its silver dulled and mottled. He traced a finger around the runes he'd inscribed on it, memories of what exactly they meant slowly coming to mind. It was covered in dust, but there was still a glimmer of magic about it. He brushed it clean and wondered if he shouldn't get back into it all again. It wasn't like he'd ever stopped believing, he'd just stopped practicing. Maybe one more circle couldn't hurt.

The censer was missing, but he'd known that. It had disappeared during a move, and he'd never found another like it. It had been made of brass, with the most delicate dragons standing to attention as the legs. He hadn't been allowed to burn incense inside anyway, so he'd let it go. It was for the best. He couldn't be a witch anymore.

The first book on witchcraft he found at the very bottom, tucked away under an old altar cloth. He hadn't read it for years, but it had been what got him started. He owed a lot to that book. He flicked through the pages again, seeing all the notes he'd scribbled in the margins. It was as close to a Book of Shadows as he ever got; he had never liked the term, nor the concept of them, and at the time, he had been working from his coven's Book anyway and hadn't needed his own.

In a moment of curiosity, he decided to see just how much of his old magical gear he had left. He was sure some of it had vanished or been thrown out, but he can't have lost all of it. It had been spread out all over the place, and it was not all in such good nick, but he had more than he'd expected. He still had his first robe, though he would hardly fit into it now, and the red cord he'd used to tie it had disappeared. There were a few more books, some other assorted tools and supplies, and one old white candle.

He felt it had been far too long since he'd last done any magic. He was well out of practice, and he wasn't sure his coven was still around. He'd lost track of them over the years when he'd chosen domestic life over coven life. He didn't regret that at all; he had a lot to be thankful for. But a part of him still missed the magic.

He did nothing about it for another month, apart from clean up his old tools and think about whether there was any point to starting again. It had been too long. He couldn't remember half the rituals anyway. What was the point? It wasn't like he had any need for magic anymore. But every time he thought about it, every time he picked up his knife or looked at his old books, he wanted to do it all again.

The afternoon was fine, if a little cold. He didn't have everything he needed, but he had enough. He decided the only way he'd get his tools to stop nagging him was to cast again and see what happened. Maybe then they'd leave him alone, if he decided to cut ties with them properly.

He drove to the old woods where his old coven used to meet. The stone circle was still there, overgrown with moss and weeds. The large oak tree marking the north side of the circle was bigger than he remembered. He could feel the magic though, as soon as he stepped inside the circle. The air grew a little warmer. His knife hummed just a little bit more.

There was no formal altar; the old stone table had been dismantled and taken elsewhere. Likewise, the niche in the north oak was unusable, and the antlers that had been set in its wood were long gone. The old coven had either disbanded, or moved elsewhere. If they were still practicing in this circle, those things would still be there. Roy mourned a little for them. Casting alone had never had the same energy as casting with the coven.

"They left five years ago. The fighting got too much, so they called it a day."

Roy turned to see Kelly standing just outside the circle in the south, watching him. He stepped over and approached him, gazing around their old magic space.

"Apollo's Arrow. It's been a while," Roy said, remembering Kelly's coven name.

"Evening, Ulysses. You felt it too, didn't you? The magic never really goes away," Kelly murmured.

Roy blushed at hearing his old coven name. He hadn't used it for years. It was more public than he'd intended, but as no one knew what it really meant and why he'd taken it on, he felt he hadn't broken any coven oaths of secrecy. "I found my old tools, just by accident. I wasn't sure what I'd find here, but I just wanted to come back one last time. Just to see if the magic was still there."

Hugh approached from the east, stepping across the circle to join them. "Of course it's still here. It never left. Only the coven left. I see they've been calling to you too, hey? Where did they go? Did they move on?"

"No, they disbanded five years ago. I have no idea where they've gone though. I haven't heard from anyone since then," Kelly said.

"I never thought you'd be the last one there. I'm assuming egos got in the way again, like they always did," Hugh said. He began unpacking his things; he seemed to have more tools than the rest, and seemed intent on doing some sort of ritual whether they wanted to or not.

Kelly watched him, intrigued. "What are you even doing here, Saturnus? I thought you'd moved away for good."

Hugh grinned at them. "Oh, you can't get rid of me that easily. I still come here every so often. I never did like that new place they moved to, but I wasn't going to let them stop me practicing."

Kelly agreed. "I never liked it either. It was some hilltop a few miles away. It never had the same energy as here."

"Did they ever forgive me for leaving? I never did bother to find out," Roy said.

Kelly shrugged. "Most did, but there were still a few who couldn't get over it. I'm sure you know who."

Roy did know who. He wasn't really surprised. "Did the Sparrows split too? Or are they still practicing?"

"No idea. We stopped doing joint Sabbats years ago after a particularly bad Beltane rite. Our High Priest took things too far with their High Priestess. I think that's when the rot set in. The covens were never the same after that," Kelly said.

In some ways, Roy wasn't surprised. They had been an all-male coven, for reasons Roy had long forgotten, and their worship and magic centred around the Horned God. The Sparrows were a Goddess-centred coven. In the interests of balancing Male and Female, they held Sabbat rites together. Roy had never liked the joint rites though. More often than not they were done skyclad, unless it was far too cold to do so out in the open. He never quite believed the bullshit about robes and clothes hindering his magical power. From what he'd seen, it seemed to be more of an excuse to get women naked in the name of religion. He didn't like the dishonesty, but he never did like making a fuss and kept quiet. Besides, no one actually seemed to mind, so he thought that maybe no one really had a problem with it except perhaps him. They only ever celebrated together four times a year, the equinoxes and solstices they marked separately, so he tried not to let it bother him.

"So, are you going to join me while you're here? Only if you're not going to cast with me, you might wanna get out of the circle," Hugh said, interrupting them.

"There's only three of us. We can't cast with only three people," Roy said.

"If you can do it with one, you can do it with three. We'll use the Oak as North. I'll take East. You two take the other two points. And get your tools ready. We cast together," Hugh said.

Spurred into action, Roy quickly prepared himself and took his knife. Kelly had taken West, so he stood in the South, waiting for the circle to be cast. He watched Hugh carve the North sigil into the wood, reinforcing its old shape. Tapping on the wood three times, he invoked the North Guardian and Cernunnos. With his knife raised, he led the circle casting as they invoked each of the other Guardians in turn as they walked clockwise around the circle.

The image of that white-blue circle came to mind unbidden as Roy walked the circle, knife raised as the fire flowed out of it. He could feel it humming and the handle tingled against his palm, eager to be used again. The triple circle complete, they stopped back where they'd started and paused, drinking in the energy that always came from being inside sacred space.

"Well, boys, what should we do now? I've got a couple of spells to cast. Want to help me out?" Hugh said as he set his things on their makeshift altar, which was the flattest and largest stone they could lift into place.

It wasn't really a request, and the three of them gathered around the altar, kneeling around it. Hugh sat in front of it, laying out everything he needed; the herbs, the incense, the ribbons and pins, and the candles. Roy helped out where he could as Hugh explained what he wanted to do. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a banishing, or even a binding, but Roy could see there was someone being dealt some revenge. He had no qualms about casting these kinds of spells if the situation called for it.

The energy-raising was as thrilling as Roy remembered it. Dancing around the altar, dancing around the sacred fire, spinning around in circles, was just as great as he remembered it, and he had almost reached a trance-state by the time they'd set their energy to use for the spell they were casting. It was all coming back to him. The words, the rituals, the gestures. It had never left him, it had just waited for him to remember them.

They parted ways, promising to meet up at the next full moon. Maybe they wouldn't be a proper coven again, but casting magic together was better than doing it alone. Roy drove back in silence, letting the residual energy flood throughout his body. He'd grounded before they opened the circle, but he'd always been a bit of a conduit, and there was always a little left over to warm him on the way home. It was why he'd been chosen as a potential High Priest candidate. He could channel properly, better than most. But all that was in the past now. They didn't need a High Priest anymore. But maybe he could still channel for them and make the magic happen all over again.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Roy arrives home and his wife is all, you've been in circle, and it goes from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK why this needed a sequel, but I woke up today with fic in my head, and so on, and so it goes. It is now written. And there is more to come because of course there is. gfdi.

"You've been to circle again."

Roy turned to find his wife, Jackie, coming to greet him as he got home. He had been longer than he'd anticipated, but she didn't seem mad. "Yeah, I found my old tools up in the attic. I thought one last time couldn't hurt. I ended up meeting some old covenmates up there, and we circled together. It was better than I had remembered."

She came and took his arm. "It always made you happy. I don't know why you stopped practicing."

Roy waved a hand dismissively. "There were – everything changed, and we had a family, and it didn't work."

"I think you were just looking for excuses to leave. When it wasn't making you happy, that's when I knew. You could've found another group, you know. I never would've stopped you practicing if that's what you wanted to do," she said.

He sighed. "Everything got complicated, and there were too few groups back then. Besides, I didn't want to have altars all over the house, not when the bab was so small. Knives and animal skulls and candles and censers aren't really kid-friendly."

"I always loved your altars. I miss the one in the dining room. That always had a beautiful presence to it," she said.

"I bet most of that stuff got lost along the way. I did like that one, too. Those skulls would be hard to replace, though, and to explain," he said.

"I wouldn't let you get rid of the things that make you happy. I kept all of it, even if I didn't understand half of it. It was important to you, so I hung on to it," she said.

Roy had to smile. "And I thought I was bad at throwing things away."

She softly kissed his cheek. "It's all packed up in a box in the hall. Should we set it up again?" 

Roy thought for a moment. "Yeah, we should."

The altar had indeed been packed up in a box that had been stored in a hall cupboard. Roy was amazed. He hadn't set eyes on anything in there for over a decade. His daughter, Holly, had been six when he'd taken it down, though the skulls had been put away earlier than that as they had scared her. But there they were, packed away in paper and cloth, just waiting for him to bring them out. 

There were four boxes in all. Two contained one of the skulls, one contained the altar items, and the last contained all the extra tools and supplies he had kept underneath the altar. They still had the sideboard he had used, and he hadn't paid it any attention in a long time. He was surprised it was still empty, that they hadn't reused it to store other things. 

Jackie helped him unpack, and they set everything on the dining table. Roy wanted to see what he still had, and to remind himself of their power. The skulls – one stag and one wolf – still radiated power, and a very calming energy. He picked up the stag and stroked the bony nose. The solar God symbol he had painted on its forehead had faded and chipped off, but it was still clear. He closed his eyes, feeling its energy. 

“Hail to the god who strides through the forest…” He murmured the beginning of an old invocation. “They still haven’t forgotten their power, have they?”

He set it back on the table gently, and carefully, and then picked up the wolf skull. It had a silver lunar symbol painted on its forehead, which was in slightly better condition. He lifted it and met its gaze. He could’ve sworn he heard it growl at its touch. 

“Sister, it is good to see you again,” he said. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed the two spirits. “I think it’s time to put the altar back.”

The decision made, he put the skull back on the table. He spent the next hour cleaning and purifying all the items and the sideboard itself. He was hesitant to let Jackie help, but she seemed interested, and keen to help. This time, he explained each piece, and what the skulls represented, as they built up the altar again. 

The first to be placed was the silver and gold altar cloth that filled the top perfectly, and hung down a little over the short ends. It was made out of satin, and needed to have some wax removed, but it was otherwise in excellent condition. There was a black pentagram embroidered in the centre, which would be hidden under the rabbit fur and the large offering bowl until ritual needed to be done. 

Next came the two ornate iron candle holders, which sat on each side of the pentagram. A gold pillar candle, and a silver pillar candle, were placed on top. Two small plain wooden chests were set on the outer sides of each candle holder. Roy checked that each contained what it should contain: censer, incense, and matches in one, and small elemental candles in the other. Looking at the old candles, he wondered if it would be better to replace them, given their age. Perhaps he might be more open now in a way he was too scared to be back then.

The offering bowl was placed on the rabbit skin and covered the pentacle. He had picked up the bowl many years ago, and it was made from coloured glass. It had bunches of grapes decorating the sides, which had always felt appropriate. The rabbit skin had been a gift from an old covenmate, and it had a particular runic prayer painted on the underside. 

The last things to be placed on the altar were the skulls. The stag sat on the left, sitting on a small piece of buckskin. The wolf sat on the right, with a wolf tail wrapped around it. The wolf was, perhaps, a little unusual for a representation of the goddess, but the skull had called to him persistently until he had acquired it. Somehow, it made sense, even if no other witch might understand. 

Once all the other tools and supplies had been set back in the cupboards underneath the altar, it was done. Roy stood back and looked at it, feeling its energy settle into place again. It felt happy, peaceful. Jackie seemed pleased with it, too. 

“It’s beautiful. I wish you’d explained it all to me years ago. But I’m glad I know now,” she said. “Are you happy?” 

Roy thought a moment. “Yeah, I am.”

“I wonder what Holly will make of it. She’s never seen it, has she?” Jackie said.

“Not since she was four or five. I don’t know how much of it she’d remember,” Roy said.

“Well, I do remember the skulls. Those gave me nightmares when I was a kid. What’s all this for, anyway? Are you a witch?” Holly said, arriving back from school. 

Roy offered a perplexed look. “What makes you think I’m a witch?”

“I’ve been reading about it. One of the girls at school is a properly initiated witch, and she’s been teaching us about Wicca. I mean, those are god and goddess candles, right?” Holly said, indicating the two candles. 

“Wait, how do you even know about Wicca? How do high school girls know about Wicca?” Roy said, trying to wrap his head around it. 

Holly offered a withering look, then pulled out some books from her bag. “You can buy them from bookstores? You know, where you get books? There are loads of books on Wicca.”

Roy shook his head, guessing that this was a thing he probably wouldn’t understand. “I can’t tell you how long it took me to find even one book when I first started looking into it. You had to go to the right bookstore, and ask the right person. It took me three years to find a coven who would train me. I don’t know of any covens who would initiate anyone as young as you, though.”

“You don’t need a group, you can initiate yourself. I read about it in a book. You can learn everything you need to know from books. I mean, this girl is really powerful, but she’s still teaching us. She’s going to initiate us under the full moon when we’re ready,” Holly said.

“You wouldn’t know a proper Wiccan initiation if it fell on you. If you want to learn about Wicca, you’re better off learning from me, not those books. I’ll teach you what I was taught,” Roy said. “I can assure you, I’m more powerful than this girl who claims to be initiated. Come here and touch the stag skull. Feel the presence of the god within the old bones.”

Holly hesitated, but unable to resist, she went to the skull and touched it. She watched as Roy set up the censer and lit the candles. He lit a charcoal disk and set some incense burning, chanting softly under his breath. He chanted until he felt the need to speak, when he felt the light trance set in. His mind saw the forest and the God before him, and he smiled, sure that the magic would work again like it always did. When he spoke, his voice was soft and urgent, and he watched Holly, seeing her holding the skull, her gaze transfixed. 

“Feel the strength of the stag. Feel the god’s powerful stride. Feel the strength in his neck as he gazes to the heavens. You cling to his neck as he races through the forest, taking you to see the goddess. His cloven feet disturb the musky ground, and the galloping, galloping, galloping rhythm penetrates your mind. You feel his stride in every part of your body, and his breathing is harsh as he runs. But hush… hush…. As the wind moves you, so you move with it. You stride with him, raising your antlers to the sky, bellowing at the sun. Your heart is beating fast, but at last, you slow. You slow, slow, slow, letting your hooves fall softly into the dry leaves. You smell roses on the air, and follow it into a clearing. There before you stands the goddess. What does she look like? See how she beckons to you, drawing you near. As she embraces you, she whispers her name into your ear. Remember it. Remember it. … Let her speak to your heart, and say what she wishes to say to you.” Roy paused, letting Holly experience the god and goddess as completely as she could. He watched her to see when she might be done. When he felt the goddess retreat, he continued. “As she withdraws, with the scent of roses on the breeze, she smiles. The god walks after her, the stag strutting peacefully. The mists close, and you turn and leave, walking back through the forest. You walk, taking in your surroundings, until you find the place where you started. There, you rise with the sparrows, and return to your body. The stag bellows below you, bidding you goodbye, and as you come to the gateway, you find a small piece of antler in your hand, a gift from the god. When you are ready, walk through the gate, and come back to your body.”

Roy chanted softly after that, watching for Holly’s reaction as she came out of the trance. Her deep breath was the signal he was looking for, and he touched her shoulder and brought her close. They sat down together, and she opened her hand, where there was a piece of antler. She stared at it, dumbfounded and amazed. Roy sent Jackie to get some water, and he sat there with her, chanting softly, as Holly slowly recovered. 

“I never knew you had such power. I have met them. I met them both. Pan and Hekate, those are the names they gave me. She said I was her child,” Holly murmured. 

Roy softly stroked her hair, grounding her slowly and gently. “These are my gods, and I’m glad you met them. I don't know if this girl you're learning from is any good, but I know my lineage, and I can teach you the tradition I was taught, if that's something you want to learn. But perhaps you're not ready yet, and that's alright, too."

"She never did anything like that. That was real. Besides, if I learn from you, then it's a family tradition," Holly said.

Roy wanted to correct her about his tradition, but as he hadn't told her yet, he kept his peace. "There's some things I can't teach you until you're initiated, because they're oathbound. That means you can't speak a word of them to anyone else. Even Pan and Hekate aren't the true names of our gods, not the ones from our tradition. They are just useful names. But I'll teach you the outer court things I still remember. I'll see if my other covenmates will agree to this. They might be able to teach you the things I don't remember. It's been a long time since I was a seeker."

"So is mum a witch, too? Or is it just you?" Holly said.

Roy glanced at Jackie. "You haven't become a witch behind my back, have you, love?" 

She smiled. "Actually, I might've done. Sorry. I was going to tell you, but you never seemed interested. Remember that book club I joined years ago? Yeah. They were witches."

Roy had to smile. "I should've known. It seems we're a house full of witches. I guess I'd better selt the altar up properly then."

"Dad, what do I do with the antler?" Holly said.

"Keep it. Put it in your own altar. Use it to connect with the god's energies. If you're lucky, you might get something of the goddess to go with it," Roy said.

While the incense burned out, Roy set the altar properly. The elemental candles were taken out, as well as his working tools. It became a family altar in the end, with everyone bringing their tools to sit on the altar. Holly put her piece of antler beside the stag skull after she'd tied a piece of green ribbon around it.

Gazing at it afterwards, Roy felt pleased by their efforts. They had built an altar together, and it hummed with their energies. It would work well for them, and it felt good to know he could have his altars out again, and not have to hide them. Perhaps stumbling on his old magical tools wasn't a bad thing, after all.


End file.
